Arnold's Valentine Reimagined
by Cre8ivelybankrupt87
Summary: What if Arnold had seen through Helga's 'Cecile' disguise? What if he thought she was trying to pull some prank on him and he decided to play along to try to turn the tables on her? He's in for one startling revelation of that's the case.
1. Forward

In honor of Valentines Day… several weeks after the fact (I started it around then), I present a different spin on a classic episode. I do realize this one is less of a fanfic and more of a rewrite of an episode, wherein the dialogue is basically the same but with the added layer of Arnold's inner monologue providing a different spin on it. I've got a ton more slightly more original stories in the works and hope to share them as well.

I never could quite get behind Arnold's Valentine for the simple fact that I just couldn't suspend my disbelief that Helga's disguise actually fooled anyone. Apparently Craig Bartlett must have felt the same because in the book version he adds an extra layer to her disguise by dying her hair pink, so that was at least something. Eventually I came around and enjoyed the rest of the episode for the emotional beats, and decided that the reason her disguise worked came down to Arnold likely not being able to believe that Helga was even capable of acting so nice at this point in his life. I think in his heart of hearts he knows who "Cecile" really is, but probably can't bring himself to admit it at least on a conscious level.

This started as just a little writing experiment based on the idea that he DID see through her disguise right away, but decided to play along thinking that she was trying to pull some kind of prank and that he would try to turn the tables on her. On the surface this little fanfic plays out exactly as it does in the real episode and some bits from the book, but with the added layer of Arnold's internal perspective trying to figure out Helga's angle and coming to a slow revelation. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1: Doomed Double Date

Donned in his best and only suit, Arnold sat brooding at a table in the dimly lit dinning room of Chez Paris, awaiting the arrival of his Valentines Day date. After an absurd chain of events and much preparation on Arnold's part, the boy now found himself ready to attempt the impossible; simultaneously entertain two dates at two separate restaurants. Earlier today, after he secretly slipped the girl of his dreams a valentine and invitation to dinner at Chez Pierre at seven o'clock, coincidentally his French pen pal had inexplicably informed him that she would be arriving in the US this very evening, and had invited him to dinner at the same time. Now he found himself caught between his crush Ruth, and his pen pal Cecile. Cecile's restaurant of choice was Chez Paris, coincidentally and rather implausibly located just across the street from Chez Pierre. Arnold could only assume two fancy French restaurants in such close proximity must have been in savage competition, and he hoped the case wouldn't be the same with his two dates if things went south. And considering his entire plan was to switch back and forth between two dates, things going south seemed pretty inevitable.

Arnold realized he had to be slightly mad to think this plan could work, but what choice did he have? He had invited Ruth to dinner before he received Cecile's invitation, and now he felt trapped and didn't want to disappoint her. Cecile had been his pen pal since he started the fourth grade, and they had gotten along great through their correspondences. Still, Arnold hoped she didn't want to be anything more than friends, though he doubted a visit all the way from France on Valentines Day was a social call. If she did have any ideas in mind, dining with her while simultaneously trying to woo Ruth could turn awkward at best, and disastrous at worst. Of course, he wasn't even certain the Ruth would show up, and a part of him hoped she wouldn't. It might be a disappointment, but it would at least simplify things in this scenario.

As he reflected on both girls, he realized he knew even less about Ruth than he did about Cecile who lived thousands of miles away in a foreign country. At least he had the details of Cecile's letters to go off of. He knew she lived on a farm with her family, and appeared to be a friendly and classy person if nothing else. He couldn't deny she was also quite the looker from the photo she'd sent, showing her to have pleasant facial features framed by her light brown shoulder length hair. Still, to his mind her looks paled in comparison to Ruth, the most perfect girl he'd ever laid eyes on. As she was a few years older than him, he had never exchanged so much as a word with her, but always admired her from a distance. He knew she was a good person having once seen her give up her seat to an old woman on the bus. Despite his otherwise lack of knowledge, he at least did know for certain how she made him feel. Whenever he saw her he felt a sense of warmth envelop him, and in his mind he could hear beautiful music playing. If that wasn't a sign that he and Ruth were soulmates, then clearly he didn't know what love was.

For some added insurance, just outside the restaurant on a bench sat Arnold's stalwart best friend Gerald, who had painstakingly helped him prepare for his dates, and was now playing lookout for him if Ruth did miraculously arrive. Arnold looked out the window and locked eyes with Gerald, who in turn gave him the thumbs up, which he returned. At the very least he felt comforted knowing he had Gerald in his corner. The kid wasn't his best friend for nothing. Since the day they met, Gerald had proved he would stand by him through thick and thin, and he hadn't let him down yet. Here he was, the coolest guy in their class gladly sacrificing his own Valentines Day just to help him.

Arnold glanced around the dinning room, taking in the scenery. The lavishly decorated restaurant hosted a number of couples, all of them at least ten or more years older than Arnold himself. He started to wonder if at nine years old he was too young for this sort of thing, which was probably the case, but it didn't deter him. He pulled out the pocket watch he'd borrowed from his grandpa and saw that seven o'clock had indeed come, meaning Cecile should arrive at any moment. That moment then arrived abruptly, in a wholly unexpected way.


	3. Chapter 2: A Certain Who Knows What

"Bon sewer, Arnold!" a girl's voice rang in Arnold's ear, speaking in a distinctly non-French accent, followed by a giggle.

Arnold looked up from his watch and his heart instantly sank. The girl standing before him was most certainly not Cecile, and was even more certainly the last person he'd ever want to spend Valentine's Day with. There before him stood the dreaded fourth grade bully and his own personal tormentor Helga G. Pataki. What she was doing here he couldn't imagine, but she was clearly attempting to disguise herself. Attempting being the key word. Rather than her usual pink jumper, she had donned a longsleeve striped blouse, a skirt and a scarf. Still, the entire outfit was pink and she still wore a bow atop her head as usual. It was her hairdo that stood out the most, which had been styled into two puff balls sticking out on either side of her head. Helga had certainly put a lot of effort into her getup, but did she really expect the disguise to fool him? Helga's distinctive features were unmistakable despite her change of wardrobe and a new ridiculous hairstyle. Honestly, her usual blonde pigtails looked as if they had been purposely styled to resemble the ears of a poodle, Arnold thought.

As he looked Helga over, the truth dawned on him; Cecile hadn't invited him here at all, rather Helga must have written that letter. Helga clearly intended to lure Arnold into some kind of trap and prank him, which he thought was low even for her on Valentines Day. He could just call her out, but instead he felt slightly trapped. Arnold quickly decided to play along with whatever scheme she had going, knowing if he didn't she'd almost certainly sabotage his date with Ruth in the off chance she showed up. Some might consider that line of thinking to be paranoia. Some clearly didn't know Helga G. Pataki.

"Uh, Cecile?" Arnold asked after an uncomfortable pause.

Smiling, Helga responded with a wave of her fingers. Arnold assumed she must have thought he was stupid, as this disguise wouldn't fool even the slowest-witted kids he knew… well, maybe Harold, but definitely not Arnold. And she wasn't even trying with that accent. As Helga took a step forward, she seemed to trip over nothing, and with a shriek she fell flat on her face. Instinctively, Arnold rushed over to help her to her feet. Even if this was Helga, Arnold couldn't help being a gentleman. Throwing her arm around his shoulder he locked eyes with her for a moment, and neither of them knew what to say. Arnold quickly helped her to a chair before seating himself.

Whatever Helga had planned, it couldn't be good. As if her usual mischievousness was infectious, Arnold quietly decided to himself to settle the score with her. After a lifetime of putting up with her torment, he was going to turn the tables on her somehow. Helga sat in silence with her hands clasped together and looking rather nervous, which Arnold surmised had to be part of the act to get him to lower his guard.

"It's great to finally meet you." Arnold said awkwardly.

Thinking quickly he reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph he had of the real Cecile. Surely that would get Helga to drop the act here and now.

"Gee, you don't look much like your picture." Arnold said coyly before turning it in her direction.

"I don't?" Helga gasped, "I mean… comme ci, comme ca. What do you know?"

She grabbed the photo from him and tore it up before his eyes, then clasped her hands together, grinned and let loose a small giggle.

"Your accent, it's so… American." Arnold remarked, knowingly.

"Oh, mercy." Helga said with a smile, apparently taking it as a compliment.

She was sticking to the act. Arnold knew Helga to be nothing if not determined, so it was going to take more than that to out her. As she sat with her hands clasped staring at him with a strange look on her face, Arnold's eyes bored into hers, and apparently made her uncomfortable.

"What? What is it?" She demanded.

"There's something about you." Arnold said, "I almost feel like I know you already."

"That's impossible!" Helga protested, 'We've never met. Never seen each other before."

The girl reached down and pulled the tablecloth up over her face in embarrassment. She clearly hadn't thought this plan out very well.

"I meant from your letters." Arnold said.

"Oh, right. My letters." Helga said in relief, dropping the tablecloth and giggling again.

Arnold had clearly thrown her off balance and now felt in control of the situation. He decided to press his advantage.

"So… tell me more about your life in France." he said. "I have so many questions."

"Oh, um, Paris, it's quite a city, you know." Helga began, "Big and busy and full of French people."

Naturally she'd jump to the conclusion that Cecile lived in Paris. Now he had her right where he wanted her.

"But I thought you lived on a farm in the Loire Valley." he corrected.

"Uh, a farm? Oh, oui, our, my farm." Helga clumsily tried to cover her mistake, "But enough about me. Let's talk about you. How do you like your school?"

"It's pretty good, I guess" Arnold shrugged, now unsure what was going to get her to break character.

Suddenly one of the waitstaff appeared, cutting off their back and forth.

"Bonsoir, I am le Garcon, Jacques." the man introduced himself in a thick French accent, "Are monsieur and mademoiselle ready to order?"

Arnold realized he had been so caught up with the unfolding dilemma he hadn't given any thought to ordering food, so he quickly glanced at the menu. Seeing everything was listed in French, he reflexively ordered something familiar to him and hoped for the best.

"I'd just like a hamburger please." Arnold said.

The entire room gasped simultaneously. Jacques's nostril flared as if smelling something extremely unpleasant as he glared at Arnold. Nearly every head in the room turned in Arnold's direction and fixed him with a look that suggested he had just said the most provocative and offensive thing imaginable.

"Hamburger?" Jacques said with a snide snicker, "Monsieur, Chez Paris dose not serve "le hamburger."

"Oh." Arnold replied, mildly embarrassed.

"We have the steak tartare, delicately seasoned tenderized cuts of marinated raw steak." Jacques suggested.

Arnold considered for a moment. Raw? That didn't sound appetizing, but if they served it in a place this fancy how bad could it be? Not wanting to draw any more attention to his lack of experience in fine dining, he decided to just go with it.

"Okay, great, I'll have that." Arnold said.

"Very well, monsieur." Jacques nodded and jotted down his order.

Arnold knew the waiter had said 'raw' so he wondered if he couldn't at least try to customize his order just a little.

"Well done, with chee-" he tried to add but Jacques curtly snatched his menu and cut him off.

"Bon, you are finished with your order." Jacques put in with a sneer, "And for mademoiselle?"

Helga pointed to her menu and placed her order with a bit more confidence than Arnold had, "Okay, I'll have the servells brayzees aveck less oops brew eelees."

Arnold didn't have to understand a word of French to know Helga had butchered the name of that dish worse than whatever animal it was made of. Inexplicably however, Jacques looked rather impressed with her.

"Excellent. Mademoiselle has very refined taste." he said with a smile, then sneered at Arnold again as he strutted off. Arnold doubted Helga even knew what she had just ordered, still she'd won this round and managed to one up him. Maybe that was her game. He knew her family was fairly well off, what with her dad running a beeper empire, so maybe she had some experience in this setting, and she just wanted to embarrass him with his lack of sophistication.

"What did you order?" Arnold asked.

"Oh, you know, I forget how you say it in English." Helga said, "We have it all the time back home in France."

"Sounds great." Arnold said with a smile. His own reaction surprised him, as if he'd been momentarily charmed by her and forgotten the girl in front of him was Helga. He had to admit, even if her disguise didn't do the trick, something about the way she spoke threw him.

"So, Arnold." Helga started, "What I wanted to tell you is how very different you seem from all your photos…"

Helga's words abruptly faded away into nothingness in Arnold's ears, as someone else appeared just outside the window and caught Arnold's attention. Unbelievably, there stood Ruth McDougal herself, standing in the moonlight like a portrait of loveliness, wearing a red cocktail dress and carrying the Valentine Arnold had slipped her earlier. She'd actually showed up! It was nothing short of a miracle, but also kind of a disaster given the circumstance he now found himself stuck in. How was he supposed to get out of Helga's clutches even for a minute?

"So distinctively shaped, n'est-ce pas?" Helga asked Arnold something of which the context was completely lost on him.

He glanced out the window again and saw Ruth heading over towards Chez Pierre. He quickly chose the one excuse always guaranteed to buy just a little time in any setting.

"Uh, excuse me a minute, I have to go to the-"

"Ah, oui, oui." Helga said.

"Exactly." Arnold said with a grin as he dashed for the door, hoping Helga wouldn't notice what direction he'd gone.


	4. Chapter 3: Queazy Cuisine

Arnold flew out the door of Chez Paris and dashed across the street to Chez Pierre.

"Go to it, lover boy!" Gerald shouted encouragingly as he looked up from his newspaper.

Arnold slid to a halt at Ruth's side and smiled at her.

"You're here." he said happily, "You made it!"

"Uh, yeah," Ruth said passively, "Do you have a mister… anonymous, party of two?"

"Yeah, the table's all ready." Arnold gestured to the reserved table and escorted Ruth to a chair. "Here, sit down."

Arnold helped her into her chair then handed her a menu. To his relief she smiled

"Would you like a glass of water or something?" Arnold asked.

"I'll have a yahoo soda." she responded cooly.

"Oh, great, great, great." Arnold said with a smile, feeling the butterflies in his stomach starting to multiply. "Good choice."

Nervous and excited to the point that he forgot how a sit down restaurant worked, Arnold ran off to fetch her a soda personally. Suddenly he noticed Gerald motioning back to Chez Paris.

"Psst, hey! Over here!" he said.

Fearing if Helga saw him over here with Ruth she'd make a scene and ruin everything, Arnold knew he'd have to get back to her before she noticed. His impossible dream had finally come true and he couldn't let a creep like Helga ruin it now. Ruth seemed to be distracted with the menu at the moment, so he figured he had a minute or two to spare.

"Uh, listen I'll be right back." He said to her, "You stay right there and eat some bread sticks. Relax. I-I'll be back before you know it."

As Arnold dashed off again Ruth said, "Yeah, don't forget the straw, okay?"

Arnold could feel his heart pounding as he ran across the street yet again and rushed over to the table where Helga awaited him. He found himself somewhere between hopelessly in love and afraid for his life. Fortunately she didn't appear suspicious. For a moment, Arnold had to remind himself that this was Helga and not some other girl that he actually wanted to please. Remembering that he was just trying to keep her at bay and maybe ruin her attempt to prank him was his only objective, after all.

"Uh, the line for the bathroom was, whew!" Arnold said with a smile.

A lifetime of knowing this girl had taught him to expect rage and vitriol from her no matter what he said to her. Tonight Helga appeared to be giving off an uncharacteristic air of nervousness, but why? Whatever the case, Arnold decided to use that to his advantage. He would see if he couldn't turn her own trap against her. Finally she broke the silence.

"So Arnold… is there anyone you especially like in your class?" Helga asked, "Perhaps a smart, funny, beautiful girl?"

"A girl?" Arnold asked.

That was a pretty leading question. Was that her game? To somehow coax him into revealing who his crush was and embarrass him? If that was the case, he had to throw her a curveball. Quickly, he thought of something guaranteed to make her squirm.

"Well, there's this one girl named Helga…" he said with a laugh.

Sure enough, this threw Helga way off when she heard this. She suddenly looked insecure and even gasped in surprise.

"What about her do you notice especially?" she asked.

He'd done it. Just as he'd expected, Helga clearly dreaded the idea of him having a crush on her. She had made her disdain for him known on several occasions. He had her all figured out now.

"Well she kind of… I don't know, she bugs me sometimes."

"Oh." Helga said, "Uh huh."

Strangely, she didn't look relieved as he had expected her to. On the contrary she looked almost disappointed.

"Yeah, you know what bugs means, not-not… not the crawly kind but-"

"I know what 'bugs' means!" Helga shouted as she slammed her fist onto the table.

Arnold jumped back in his seat. Helga had broken character and realized it. She quickly tried to revert back to her Cecile persona.

"What I mean to say is, perhaps there's a reason why this one certain girl bugs you." she suggested, "Perhaps deep, deep down you… really like her?"

So that was her plan. Put words in his mouth, trick him into saying that he liked _her_ so she could reveal herself and taunt him for it, or worse. That had to be it. He wasn't going to fall into this trap of hers.

"No, deep, deep down, I'd have to say she really bugs me." Arnold said flatly.

"Look Arnold, there's s-something I need to tell you." she said, again looking unusually nervous. She lightly pounded her fists on the table as she struggled to spit out whatever she was trying to say.

"I… I…"

Before she could say anything more, Jacques suddenly returned with their meals. Arnold removed the metal lid covering his plate to reveal the beef tartar, which despite the lack of cheese or a bun did look and smell delicious. Helga rubbed her hands together eagerly as Jacques placed her plate before her. Whatever she had unwittingly ordered at least didn't smell off-putting to her. Without hesitation she grabbed her fork and began devouring her food, murmuring her approval as she ate. Jacques looked at her with an approving smile.

"Not many of our younger customers appreciate the calf brains and eggs." Jacques said appreciatively as Helga shoved bite after bite into her mouth.

Upon hearing just what she had been eating, Helga abruptly stopped eating. Neither Arnold nor Helga had been prepared to hear that. Whatever she had previously thought of the taste was ruined by knowing exactly what she had just put in her mouth, and she now retched in disgust as she stared at her fork in horror. Slapping her hand over her mouth she leapt from the table and made a beeline for the restroom, knocking over waitstaff as she went.

"Calf brains and eggs!" she muttered through a mouth full of the stuff.

Arnold watched her run off in dull surprise. Her apparently poorly thought out prank was certainly backfiring spectacularly. As he turned back to the window he beheld Ruth across the street turning and looking in his direction. Looking back to the bathroom he realized Helga was indisposed, giving him the perfect chance to return to Ruth. As quick as his short legs could carry him he again dashed out of the restaurant.


	5. Chapter 4: Love is Dead

As he passed his friend he shouted, "Cover me, Gerald!"

"I'm watching your backside, Romeo." Gerald said, giving him the thumbs up.

Ruth sat alone at the table for two looking beautiful in the low lighting.

"Sorry I was gone." Arnold gasped.

"I already got a Yahoo soda from the other busboy." she said dismissively.

"Busboy?" Arnold asked. "Oh, oh! You thought that… oh no, no, I'm not the busboy."

Ruth didn't even return his gaze and just stared at her fingernails she was busy filing, all while Arnold tried to clear up the confusion.

"I'm, uh… let me put it this way." he said, trying to turn on the charm, "You're probably wondering about that valentine. About who 'anonymous' really is."

"Everyone knows who anonymous is." Ruth said, glancing up at him with an annoyed expression before returning her attention to her little manicure.

"They do?" Arnold asked, genuinely taken aback.

"Yeah, he's like a famous poet." Ruth said.

"Huh?" Arnold replied.

"Every time we read a poem at school it's by that guy, anonymous." Ruth said as she rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed at having to explain what she apparently thought was so obvious to him.

Arnold was completely dumfounded. There wasn't a trace of irony in her voice. Arnold was two years younger than Ruth and had a hard time fathoming how she could have gone her whole life making that mistake. It was probably just a joke, and maybe she had a very dry sense of humor, so dry that it wasn't immediately perceptible. That had to be it. Or maybe she felt just as nervous as he felt and made a mistake.

"Uh, listen, Ruth," Arnold spoke up at last, "Why don't we just talk a little. Get acquainted."

Ruth looked up from her nails and pointed the file at him as she said, "Okay, but when this anonymous guy shows up you're going to have to go."

Arnold smiled. Clearly she was just teasing him. A little coy banter could just be her way of flirting, so he thought he would play along. He figured once they got to know one another, and she let her real personality show, they'd look back on this moment and laugh. Arnold just couldn't believe he was actually sitting in the presence of Ruth P. McDougal; the girl he had admired from afar since the first time he laid eyes on her. She was just so perfect, the way her chestnut hair cascaded down to her milky white shoulders, the way her clear blue eyes sparkled like sapphires, and the way her melodious voice seemed to create a symphony in his ears just filled Arnold with such a longing. Suddenly he realized he had been lost in his blissful thoughts for a minute, and that Ruth had been talking all the while. Fearing he would offend her if she realized he hadn't been listening he quickly started nodding his head interestedly.

"Uh huh." he said, trying to sound up to speed, "Then what happened?"

"That was it, I just told you." Ruth said, an undercurrent of disgust entering her voice. "So what do you think about my shoes?"

"Oh." Arnold said, seizing the moment, "They're just beautiful. Almost as beautiful as your-"

"Yeah, they're alright I guess," Ruth cut him off, "I mean, I wanted the higher end brand, but my mom got me these instead. Like she didn't even know these were basically just a knockoff. I can't really believe I'm wearing them, but they were the only ones that matched my new dress. I mean, what other color can you wear on Valentines Day but red?"

"Um," Arnold stumbled, not entirely sure what to say, "Pink is always nice, I guess."

"Pink?" Ruth scoffed, "Please, do I look like I'm still in the fourth grade or something? That color is for little girls."

Arnold grimaced. For some inscrutable reason he had always liked the color pink, even if it tortured him on a daily basis in the form of Helga Pataki. Still, he preferred to be sitting here with the color red given its wearer. At least, that's what he told himself. A strange feeling had been nagging at him as he listened to Ruth, but he couldn't quite put a label on it.

Fifteen or so minutes passed as Ruth monologued about herself, and everything he was learning about her was very telling, and not in a good way. Arnold was getting exactly what he wished for, to learn everything about the girl of his dreams, and now the phrase 'be careful what you wish for' sat on his mind and punished him. He was still listening technically, but not retaining much of what he was hearing. Ruth dwelt exclusively on superficial things, expressed a general disdain for all those around her, and didn't display the slightest bit of interest in getting to know him. The way she spoke to him just made him feel so inconsequential, like she could be having this same conversation with a rock and not know the difference. He soon found his head resting in his hand just to keep from collapsing onto the table as Ruth endlessly ran her mouth.

"So then in the third grade, that's when I first started wearing my hair in two barrettes, instead of one, okay?" she prattled on, "But then Jenny Stiletto starts going around with the same hairdo like she thought of it first! Can you believe that?"

"Oh, that's amazing…" Arnold muttered, unable to even fake sincerity at this point.

Somehow it didn't even seem to matter to him how bored he was by these insipid and frivolous factoids she endlessly listed off about herself. He was far to distracted by a worse feeling than boredom; deep and bitter disappointment. He had made a false idol out of this girl, and now love was dead. Ruth had managed to kill his love for her with very little effort. He had been hoping to dive deep into her personality and really get to know her, but as it turned out he had taken a dive into a puddle and it hurt every bit as much as the metaphor suggested. Rather than hurting his head however, instead he felt his heart had just collapsed on itself, and the crushing pain of this reality was almost unbearable.

There was quite literally nothing to Ruth once he had gotten up close. Even her beauty he had previously worshiped only minutes ago had melted away in his eyes, and it pained him to realize he was looking at just another girl now. The beautiful music that had once played in his head whenever he saw her had fallen silent, without even the chirping of crickets. Worse, while she didn't seem to be actively trying to hurt his feelings she was proving to be an insensitive jerk, the last kind of behavior he'd expected from her. But then, what could he expect when he didn't even know her until now? Speaking of insensitive jerks, Arnold's mind wandered back to his other supposed date. Suddenly he noticed Gerald waving his hand and shouting.

"Hey! Arnold! Casanova!"

Through the window across the street, Arnold could see that Helga had returned to the table and was looking around trying to locate him.

"What do you think?" Ruth asked, "How do you like my hair?"

"Would you excuse me please?" Arnold asked as he dashed away to Ruth's surprise.

As he sprinted back over to Chez Paris, he heard Gerald again shouting in his direction.

"Arnold! Heads up!"


	6. Chapter 5: A Monster Unmasked

Arnold turned and saw a bunch of roses Gearld had thrown careening over him. Arnold quickly tried to catch them as they passed over his head. He reached out, fell through the front door of the restaurant and summersaulted once, twice, three times and somehow managed to still catch the roses. He looked up and saw Helga looking at him slightly perplexed. Her trip to the bathroom had apparently done a number on her as her absurd hairstyle had somehow morphed into something a little more normal, and her rather wavy blonde hair was now flowing elegantly down. He'd never seen her look this way and he couldn't deny this new look of hers suited her well, and actually looked kind of pretty. The fact that he even could have that last thought kind of shocked him, but as he looked at her vulnerable expression, and then at the flowers in his hand, he smiled awkwardly and offered them to her.

"Here." Arnold said.

Helga accepted the offering and sat back down at the table as Arnold did likewise.

"I thought you'd left." she said, sounding rather hurt. Arnold had fully expected her to curse him in anger, or finally drop the charade and start beating him with her fists. Instead, her tone of voice completely threw him.

"Um, no." Arnold said as he folded his hands and looked down in embarrassment, wondering if her feelings were actually hurt as her voice suggested. Not likely. This was still Helga, as he had to keep reminding himself.

"Is something wrong Arnold?" she asked, no longer sounding sad but instead concerned. Helga apparently had some acting talent, because her question had him genuinely believing that she cared.

"No, nothing. It's just that…" Arnold started. He couldn't even explain to himself what he was about to do, but strangely he felt perfectly comfortable being open about his feelings in this moment, and with Helga Pataki of all people. He couldn't help but realize he had more or less forgotten that this girl even was Helga, as if her Cecile act had somehow fooled him even though the truth was obvious. He did have a habit to seeing the good in everyone, which could explain it. He'd seen it in Ruth even though he'd clearly been mistaken. Regardless, he strangely felt he could trust Helga here and now, as crazy as that seemed.

Arnold sighed, "Have you ever noticed that sometimes when you think you like a person from far away, and you find out they're not what you thought they were when you get up close?"

"Well, what do you mean?" Helga asked.

Suddenly Arnold could hear a violin playing a tender romantic tune as he looked at Helga, the kind of music he used to hear in his mind whenever he looked at Ruth. To his relief he quickly realized the music wasn't in his head, but coming from an actual violinist walking around the restaurant.

"Well, there's this girl I thought I liked." Arnold said, "But then it turned out that when I got to know her, we had nothing in common."

"Well, maybe she's not the girl for you." Helga said in the most tender and reassuring voice Arnold had ever heard, "Maybe the girl for you is someone you didn't expect. After all the most beautiful gift can come in the plainest box."

In that instant the impossible happened. Arnold felt a strange sensation he never expected could happen in the presence of this girl; he felt warm inside, and comforted. He couldn't think of a time in his life when Helga hadn't been yelling in anger, and now to hear her soft voice so filled with apparent concern for him was foreign to say the least. In fact, he couldn't help but note that he was now feeling exactly what he had been lacking in Ruth's presence. What did that mean? What on earth was this girl up to? Arnold considered her words. Helga was certainly dramatic by nature but she'd have to be some kind of master thespian to have said that line so sincerely, which led him to believe maybe this wasn't an act. Maybe she really meant every word she said.

"You know, I think you're right." Arnold admitted, which Helga returned with a warm smile.

She was resting her head on her hands clasped together, staring at him with what Arnold could only interpret as admiration, but that was simply impossible. Helga had mocked and tormented him since before he could remember. He'd never done anything to her and never felt the need to retaliate, but that only seemed to encourage Helga to intensify her bullying. The only conclusion he could draw from that was that Helga was simply a bad egg who delighted in causing others pain. And yet, he still didn't exactly think of her as his enemy.

As Arnold reflected, he remembered that Helga did have at least one or two moments where she had shown she wasn't completely rotten. On one occasion Arnold had lost his hat, a memento from his absent parents that he always wore, which had caused him a minor existential meltdown. Somehow, Helga had apparently found it and returned it to him, so she must have at least had some sense of decency. That one small gesture didn't exactly stack up to all the other nasty things she had done to him over the course of their lives, but it had at least given him some pause for thought.

Returning to the present, Arnold looked back at Helga who was still gazing at him with that funny look in her eye. Despite his earlier misgivings and suspicions, Helga had somehow managed to console him, and that warm feeling of solace made Arnold realize something else, which he felt he had to share with her.

"I'm really glad you came to visit me. I'm having a great time at dinner with you." he said with the utmost earnestness.

"You are?" She asked, "Me too."

Both kids paused as Helga looked away somewhat sheepishly. Arnold kept looking at her, still trying to work out what was happening.

Suddenly Helga looked excited, then spoke somewhat tentatively, "Arnold there's something I have to… I need to say."

This was it. Whatever ridiculous punchline this long game had built up to was about to land. Arnold had tried to turn her own trap against her, but somehow he had been lured in by her surprisingly convincing act. Now that he had been let down by Ruth it didn't seem to matter. Frankly he'd rather be the victim of whatever prank Helga could throw at him than dwell on his heartache.

"Arnold, I have to tell you, I really like you." she said, "And I have to know, do you like me, too?"

Time stood still. She reached out a hand and rested it close to his own on the table. Arnold had no idea what to say. He had expected this to be the big reveal moment, and it was, but not quite as he expected. Maybe she expected him to say yes just so she could reveal herself and laugh in his face. He had to beat her to the punch and tell her the jig was up. He reached out his hand and prepared to place it on top of hers when something in her face stopped him. Helga was certainly capable of smiling despite all evidence to the contrary, but he had never seen her smile like this.

It wasn't just the fact that she was smiling warmly at him, it was the look in her eye that perturbed him. Arnold considered himself a fairly good judge of character, and nothing about Helga's expression suggested anything insidious. No, there was no lie in her eye, but there was something. Something Arnold recognized in himself; a look of unfulfilled longing, as if she was peering through glass at something unobtainable. Something that caused her great pain but also warmed her heart. She looked completely genuine, which then could only mean one thing.

The truth suddenly dropped on Arnold like a ton of bricks; Helga hadn't been trying to lure him into one of her usual mean-spirited pranks at all. She had donned a disguise ironically so she could reveal her apparent true self. This ruse of acting like a nice, caring, sensitive person wasn't a ruse at all. And most alarmingly, the reason she had gone to such lengths appeared to be that she genuinely, unironically liked him. Helga G. Pataki, the most feared girl in school for good reason, liked Arnold. That revelation should have alarmed Arnold, and perhaps sent him running from the room in terror, and yet he felt more confused and intrigued than afraid as more questions clawed at him. Why would Helga feel the need to be so mean all the time if this was who she really was? Arnold certainly had no trouble being kind to people, even if they were often terrible to him in return. That thought triggered yet another epiphany; nice people like himself were easy to walk all over, and Helga knew that. Was that why she acted so tough? Could it be that underneath her tough as nails exterior she was just be afraid of being hurt?

For the first time in his life it was as if he was truly meeting Helga and seeing her as she really was. Normally this might have felt like an extreme conclusion to jump to, but if there was anyone who could be called the complete antithesis of Ruth in this moment, by being emotionally present, kind, and interested in him as a person, shockingly it was Helga. All she appeared interested in was trying to get to know him on a personal level, and then comforting when she saw him in pain. Ruth had treated him like nothing, and apparently to Helga he was everything. He couldn't help but feel deeply flattered, if any of these wild thoughts held any truth.

Arnold no longer felt like the vulnerable one in this instance. It was Helga now putting herself on the line and opening up to him, risking his rejection as she leaned towards him and stared longingly into his eyes. It was a lot to process at once, but Arnold knew he had to do something, he just needed some time to think. Remembering that Ruth was sitting alone across the street, that seemed to be the solution. Rude and disappointing as she was, she at least deserved the courtesy of being told the date was over.

"Um… would you excuse me one last time?" Arnold asked, "There's something I kind of have to… take care of."

Helga nodded in understanding, without a trace of suspicion in her eyes. Arnold had no idea what he was getting himself into, but if he broke things off with Ruth that would at least clear his head a little. As he dashed back over to Chez Pierre once again he spotted a busboy about Ruth's age hanging around her table. As he got closer he could hear them conversing.

"So, do you like gum?" the busboy asked.

"Yeah." Ruth responded, staring at him dreamily.

"Me too." the busboy said with a smile, "I love gum."

"Do you like my hair?" Ruth asked him.

"Yeah, I like your hair." he replied.

"Me too," said Ruth as she reached for a breadstick. The busboy did the same. Without realizing it, they grabbed the same one and broke it in half like a wishbone.

"Hey, we both took the same bread stick." he said with excitement as if seeing it as some kind of sign.

"I love bead sticks." said Ruth.

"Me too!" the busboy exclaimed, "Want to go get some ice cream?"

"Yeah, sure." Ruth said excitedly.

The busboy ran off shouting to his coworker, as Ruth got up to follow him but when she finally noticed Arnold standing there she approached him, still smiling.

"Oh, hi, Alfred." she said, not unkindly, "We were just leaving. You can clear the plates now."

Arnold took a deep breath, feeling a small rush of annoyance and anger. Nonetheless he tried to remain civil as he spoke. "Listen, Ruth," he said, "I'm not the busboy. And I'm not Alfred. I'm ARNOLD!" he picked up the Valentine he had made for her, "Before you go, I need you to know something. The truth is, I came here to say something to you tonight. I… I'm 'Anonymous."

"The poet?" Ruth asked.

"I love your work!" said the busboy as he reappeared.

"Me too!" Ruth chimed in.

"No, you don't get it," Arnold bit out in frustration, "I'm the one who sent you the Valen—" He stopped as he noticed how perplexed they both were, "I mean, yeah, that's right, I'm the poet. Have fun getting ice cream. You two belong together."

"Gee, thanks, Anonymous!" said the busboy, and without another word he and Ruth linked arms. Arnold watched, to his unexpected relief, as Ruth P. McDougal walked away and out of his life, a life he feared was about to be cut short when he heard another voice call out his name.


	7. Chapter 6: Who Are You?

"Arnold!" the unmistakable voice of Helga bellowed from across the street.

Arnold turned to see her stomping over to him, for some reason now barefoot and carrying her shoes in her hand. Gerald could only watch in shock.

"What the heck is going on here?" she demanded as she slammed the shoes to the ground in her fury.

"Wait, Cecile, let me explain." Arnold tried to reason with the enraged girl, "I came here to have dinner with you. But I already had this other thing set up, and…"

Helga poked her finger right into his nose which put a stopper in his mouth as he returned to his natural state of fearing for his life when in Helga's presence.

"If there's one thing I can't stand it's someone not being completely honest about who they are!" she bellowed in his face.

"Excuses moi." came a new female voice in a distinctly French accent. Both Helga and Arnold turned to see a nice looking girl about their age wearing a blue beret atop her shoulder length light brown hair. "I am looking for Arnold." she continued.

"Who are you?" Arnold asked.

"I am Cecile." she responded. "Surprise. Your grandpapa told me you were here. You do not recognize me from my photo?"

Of course. In the midst of the evening's frivolities he had forgotten what the actual Cecile looked like. That hardly mattered in comparison to the unbelievable and utterly preposterous coincidence that the actual Cecile had apparently flown in from France to visit him the same night that Helga had decided to pose as her. The likelihood of this whole scenario had to be roughly a billion to one, but that kind of math was beyond his fourth grade mind. Arnold expected he'd awake from this obvious dream any second now, but no such luck.

"You're Cecile?" Arnold asked, pointing at her, "But… you can't be Cecile. Because she's Cecile." He gestured back to Helga who looked positively mortified.

Desperately attempting to explain herself but clearly not finding the words, Helga just pointed in several directions and spouted words, "Um, well, I, um…"

Cecile looked at Arnold in confusion and asked, "Arnold, what is going on?" She placed her hands on her hips and looked somewhat suspicious now.

"Hi, uh…" came the voice of Gerald, who offered a rose to Cecile, "How you doing? I'm Arnold."

"You are Arnold?" Cecile asked.

He can't be serious, Arnold thought to himself. Gerald was nothing if not loyal, and while Arnold appreciated the assist he couldn't expect such a desperate plan to work.

"Yeah, I'll explain it to you later." Gerald said, "But for now what do you say you and I get something to eat? Because I know this great hamburger joint down the street."

To Arnold's complete shock and relief Cecile looked intrigued. "Oh, hamburger." she said as she linked arms with Gerald, "The American steak tartare. Allons-y, Arnold."

Dumfounded, Arnold watched as the Gerald and Cecile wandered off into the night together, as he tried to comprehend what was unfolding. Gerald had momentarily saved him from embarrassment, but how long could that act last? He hoped that Gerald would somehow be able to explain the truth to Cecile, and maybe she'd forgive him for the misunderstanding at the very least. If anyone was a pro at smoothing things over it was Gerald, but Arnold had another more pressing problem standing before him. He and Helga stood staring at one another awkwardly. Maybe now she'd finally come clean. Her cover had been blown, she had no reason not to.

"Uh, what a crazy night, huh?" Helga giggled sheepishly.

"Uh, yeah," Arnold agreed.

She knelt down to pick up her shoes as Arnold did the same. While on their knees their eyes met. Arnold had never felt more confused in his young life. This clearly wasn't a prank as he had earlier suspected, that much was now clear, and he saw through Helga's disguise. Helga however still didn't seem to realize that he knew.

"There's one thing I still don't understand." Arnold said, "Who are you?"

He wasn't being coy, as he knew full well she was Helga Pataki. Arnold was asking Helga point blank who she really was; the relentless school tyrant he thought he knew, or this sweet and caring girl he'd met this evening.

"I… I can't tell you." Helga said sadly.

"Why not?" Arnold asked.

"I just can't!" Helga shouted and stamped her foot, as if on the verge of crying, "That's all. Okay?"

"Well okay… I guess," Arnold said as he grabbed her by the elbow, "Will I see you again?" he asked, again referring to this kind side Helga apparently had.  
"Oh probably." she said.

Once again acting on some impulse he couldn't explain, Arnold felt the need to encourage Helga. He took her hand in his and smiled.

"I just want to tell you this has been the best Valentines Day I've ever had," he said with the utmost honesty. Granted, a majority of the evening had been disappointing, confusing, or just disastrous, and yet that brief moment when she had lifted his spirits was all that stood out to him.

"Me too," Helga said with a smile, "But now I have to go."

"Well, we'll always have Chez Paris," said Arnold.

To his own surprise, he lifted Helga's hand and kissed it, resulting with her letting out a long swooning sigh.

"Au revoir, Arnold," She said, and started to walk away.

Arnold waved, and then quickly turned and walked away in the other direction, and kept walking in a slight daze still trying to process everything that had just happened to him.

Fifteen minutes or so later Arnold reached his home, the Sunset Arms boarding house. He opened the door, expecting to be stampeded by the usual menagerie of critters that occupied the building, but apparently they must have all had Valentines dates of their own this evening as they were nowhere to be seen. The only sounds to be heard belonged to the crickets softly chirping along with the distant hum of the urban nocturnal symphony. Off in his own wistful world, Arnold suddenly realized he was still holding Helga's red shoe. Evidently they had parted with enough on their minds to distract them from this minor detail. Arnold stared at the shoe in his hands, then turned his attention towards the night sky above, and took a moment to ponder the evening's follies. He hadn't had time to process it, but in a relatively short time his small world had undergone some significant changes.

For one thing he had a hard time now remembering what he ever saw in Ruth McDougal. He tried to hold no ill feelings towards her personally, she simply hadn't been what he'd expected and that mostly fell on him. Still, it was impossible not to feel some degree of resentment towards someone he had previously thought to be the greatest, and proved herself to be vapid and shallow as a puddle.

More significantly, his entire perception of reality had just been shattered by Helga Pataki; a girl he had dreaded and avoided at all costs for most of his young life. Helga was his exact opposite; loud, brash, self-centered, bossy and mean-spirited. At least, that's how he understandably perceived her until tonight. Helga was most certainly a little out there, but for her to think wearing a paper-thin disguise would fool him into thinking she was his pen pal was… surprisingly not as implausible as he thought. Her outfit was a lie, yet her eyes were completely honest. Despite Arnold knowing her identity, something about the way she spoke so earnestly strangely made him want to believe her act, and constantly made him forget about the way she usually behaved. In the end she hadn't done anything mean to him as he had anticipated, but instead appeared as if she had just wanted to share something special with him. She had told him she liked him, the same way he had previously liked Ruth. Arnold wished he could understand what drove her to act mean to him if that was the case, but it had to be motivated by some deep seated fear she had. Now that he knew how she really felt about him, he had to ask himself how he felt in return.

He certainly hadn't harbored any feelings for Helga before tonight, that much he knew, but now he wasn't certain how he felt about her. Everything had happened too fast tonight. Clearly Helga had felt this way about him for some time, and now he found himself playing catchup. He still had difficulty thinking of Helga as anything more than the rotten little dictator she had always been to him and his whole class, and yet just that one instance where she had given him the solace he desperately needed spoke louder than her years of abuse. He certainly hadn't considered her attractive as he had with Ruth, and yet tonight she had cleaned up nicely and given him pause for reflection. In hindsight he now realized that Ruth had only allured him with her surface level attractiveness. Could it be that there wee hidden layers to Helga that he'd never bothered to notice owing to her unconventional appearance? Arnold grimaced, privately disappointed with himself for being so shallow, but also reminded himself that Helga's meanness had contributed more to his view of her. And to his dismay, he realized that the same meanness would likely dominate their relationship again starting tomorrow.

For now he had to bury this knowledge deep down. He had no doubt that by tomorrow everything would return to the status quo. Helga would revert to her public persona and mercilessly taunt him as always. She couldn't muster the courage to tell him the truth tonight, which told him she just wasn't ready for the world to see this kinder side of her. Considering that by tomorrow she'd be hocking spitballs at him, dumping his books, or just hurling threats of violence in his direction, he had no idea how to help her. All he could do was continue to do what he'd always done, keep looking up and try to keep seeing the good in everyone, even the likes of Helga. He hoped maybe just maybe that would one day inspire Helga with the courage she needed to be herself, and who knew what the future had in store for them then.


End file.
